


Collide

by Sarahastro



Category: Bones (TV), Criminal Minds
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-18
Updated: 2013-07-18
Packaged: 2017-12-20 15:07:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/888684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarahastro/pseuds/Sarahastro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even geniuses get lonely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Collide

**Author's Note:**

> Criminal Minds is owned by Mark Gordon Productions, CBS, and ABC; Bones is owned by Kathy Reichs and FOX. I just borrow them for my amusement.
> 
> This takes place during the fourth season of both Criminal Minds and Bones. I originally published this on my livejournal in November 2009.

She doesn't put much stock in psychology, but she can't dismiss his opinions and beliefs lightly. He's one of the few people she's met who is smarter than she is - college at 13, three Ph.D.'s by 21. So when he asks one night, "Why are you doing this?" she can't just dismiss his question out of hand. She tries to, she gives him the response she's given to Sweets so many times to similar questions, but his words rattle around her head for days.

So the next time she sees him - Saturday night, Chinese food then her apartment - she brings it up again.

"I've been wondering why you asked me that last weekend," she said as she drove them back to her apartment.

She doesn't need to specify the question; he remembers every conversation they've had. "I meant that I'm not a typical sexual partner for a woman like you. You're older and very beautiful. It would be easy for you to find someone else. You must have some other reason for wanting to see me."

"Doesn't that same reasoning apply to you? You are attractive and extremely intelligent. You could find a younger sexual partner."

He smiles at that. "You should leave the profiling to me. I'm not the kind of guy who finds it easy to attract women."

"Based on your profiling techniques, how would you describe me?"

He looks at her carefully, then shakes his head. "I've learned that it's not a good idea to profile people I know."

"Because you think I'll be upset by what you say? That would not be a rational response since I've asked for your analysis."

"People aren't always rational," Reid points out.

They don't talk for the rest of the drive to her apartment. Their conversations always end awkwardly when they bring up psychology. He knows that she thinks it's just guesswork, but he also knows that she can't just dismiss his psychological theories.

Once they're inside, she kisses him and steers him towards her bedroom. There's no need for the pretense of coffee or wine; they both know why he's here. They don't bother to turn on the lights. It's easy to maneuver to the bed without knocking into any of the furniture. He's nervous, like a schoolboy, and she's reminded of the first time she had sex with Michael. Of course this isn't his first time, or even their first time together. He always looks adolescently awkward. She leans over and kisses him, and she's surprised by his reaction, the abruptness with which he holds her face in his hands and kisses her back.

His hands are large, with long, thin fingers. She's impressed by their dexterity as he runs them over her body. He's tall, but very thin, and the weight of his body on hers is significantly less than a that of a typical adult male. Usually she prefers men with greater muscle mass, but she finds herself extremely attracted to him. This is partially due to his considerable intellect. But she finds his hands particularly erotic. She watches his hands hold a fork at dinner or push his hair back, and she feels an incredible rush.

He moves his hands down her body slowly, sliding them under her dress and pulling off her panties. She's already shaking with anticipation when he kneels between her legs and runs his tongue over her wet folds. Her hands move to back of his head as her hips rise up to meet his mouth. She moans when he slides one long finger inside her, then a second. His movements are so precise, careful and studied. Her gasps grow faster and more frenzied, and her hands grip his shaggy brown hair as waves of pleasure radiate up her body.

As she catches her breath, he crawls towards her trailing kisses on her thighs and torso. She runs her hands over his body, then moves them down to untuck his shirt. He raises his hips, and she slides her hands to the front of his pants to unfasten his pants. She pulls them down, and he kicks them off, then sits up to take off his socks. She kneels beside him and loosens his tie, then slowly unbuttons his shirt. When they're both naked, she pulls him down on top of her with her legs wrapped around his waist. He presses his erection against her, and she reaches down and runs her hand along it.

"Th-That feels amazing," he stammers.

She smiles; she finds his nervousness attractive. She rolls him onto his back, then sinks down around him. He lets out a groan, and his hands grip her hips. She rocks back and forth as he thrusts up and down, their bodies moving in perfect synchronicity. They're both breathing hard, and it doesn't take long for them both to climax.

They lie side by side, not touching or talking, just catching their breaths. Finally Reid speaks up. "You're extremely intelligent, and you could have gone into any number of professions, but you chose to become an expert at identifying human remains. This tells me that you care a lot about people, but have trouble with interpersonal interactions. It also suggests that you feel some connection with missing people, perhaps because of a relative." He's quiet, then adds, "But none of that explains why you'd enter into a sexual relationship with me."

Her dismissive response is automatic: "I don't put much stock in psychology."

"You've said that before," he reminds her. He pauses, then adds, "You can analyze me."

"For that I would require access to your bones," she points out.

He smiles. "Actually I was thinking of something a little less invasive. You're an anthropologist."

"I would need to observe your surroundings," she says.

"You've seen me at work."

"It would be more efficient to observe your home environment."

"Well, maybe next week you can come over to my place."

She thinks it over. On one hand, she's more comfortable in her own apartment. On the other, Reid isn't a good driver, whereas she is an excellent driver, so it would be more efficient and safer for her to drive to his apartment than vice versa. "All right," she agrees. "Next time I'll meet you at your apartment."

*****

He lives in a modest apartment not far from Quantico. It's only a few blocks away from a subway station on the third floor of a plain brick building. It has a simple layout - living room, kitchen, bedroom, bathroom. The only extraordinary thing is the books. The walls are lined with bookcases, and still there are piles of books everywhere in stacks that reach past her knees. Even in the clutter, they're extremely well-organized, filed according to topic and author.

"Well Temperance," he asks, "what do you think?"

She bends down to examine one of the piles of books. "You read a wide variety of books, indicating curiosity not limited to a single area of study." She stands and surveys the rest of the room. The walls lack personal effects, no art or photography. There's a sofa in front of a TV, but the sofa looks relatively unused whereas the desk chair has a well-worn cushion. There are piles of paper, several fountain pens, and a bottle of ink. "You spend a lot of time writing longhand," she says surprised.

"My mother prefers letters to email," he explains. "She was a professor of 15th century literature, and she doesn't like computers. I write her a letter every day."

She scans every book spine and DVD. Star Trek, Star Wars, Battlestar Galactica - Hodgins used to tease Zach about watching them. "From your DVD collection, you're part of the subculture usually referred to as 'nerds' or 'geeks.'"

He grins. "Very true."

"The lack of personal effects other than the books is common among nomadic people. Your apartment is more of a place where you camp out than a home."

He nods. "The BAU travels a lot. We always have a packed suitcase on the plane for unexpected trips." As she continues to survey the room, he suggests, "You might be able to learn more from examining my bedroom."

She smiles at him, surprised by his boldness. "Please lead the way."

She waits until he falls asleep, then she gets dressed and goes back into the living room. She's more than a little irked that he's right about her, that he's figured out so much in such a short amount of time. She thinks that she's put her past behind her, that it doesn't affect her, but through his eyes she becomes a cliche, an easily predicted result of her parents and childhood as if her life were never under her own control.

She goes to the kitchen and opens the refrigerator. It's empty except for a some beer. The freezer is stocked full of frozen dinners and coffee beans. The bathroom is fairly typical - soap, contact lens case, a shower curtain with parts of speech written on it.

She goes back to the living room and examines the desk. Under the writing materials and books she finds a metallic medallion the size of a large coin. She picks it up and studies the writing.

"It's my one year coin," he explains. He's standing in the doorway to the bedroom in a pair of gray boxer shorts and a white T-shirt. Most people get upset when other people look through their belongings, but he doesn't seem angry at all. She's not good at identifying facial expressions, but she's familiar with this one because of the number of times she's seen it on Zach or one of her interns or felt it on her own face - the focused, logical look of a scientist examining a question. 

"You're an addict."

"Recovered addict," he elaborates. "I've been clean for 20 months."

She's not sure what to say so she falls back to facts. "People working in law enforcement have a higher rate of addiction than the general public."

"25% versus 12% in the general public."

Booth would probably be annoyed by Reid's tendency to spout statistics, but she finds it soothing and familiar. "It would have been much easier for me to deduce that if I had access to your bones," she points out.

"True, but then you wouldn't have known that until after I were dead."

"That is a limitation to forensic anthropology," she concedes.

"Also that forensic anthropology can tell you about a person, but it's more difficult to extract why they were that way."

"It is nearly impossible to know what another person is thinking. People are infinitely varied."

He raises an eyebrow. "I'm a profiler. That's what we do, figure out how other people think."

"Psychology is not a science," she objects. "It's no more reliable than astrology."

"Actually criminal profiles are useful in 83% of cases."

"Well then you shouldn't ask me why I've chosen to enter into a sexual relationship with you," she points out. "You should be able to use psychological methods to obtain your own answer."

He sticks his hands in his past pockets and looks down. "I've read about many of your cases," he confesses. "The Gormagon case was particularly interesting. The man who confessed to killing the lobbyist was a member of your team, your former doctoral student." She stiffens, almost imperceptibly, as she always does when people mention Zack. He's spent enough time interrogating suspects to know when he's struck a nerve. "He was a genius, two Ph.D.'s, one in forensic anthropology and another in engineering."

"Zack is the most intelligent, rational person I have ever met. He fell victim to Gormagon's logic."

He nods to himself. "I've read Dr. Sweets' reports, and although Zack claims he only made a logical error, as a profiler there are numerous other factors that caused him to ally himself with a serial killer."

She talks louder, drowning him out. "Psychology is no more reliable than astrology or any number of other pseudosciences from the Middle Ages. You might as well claim you understand Zack because you read his palm."

He's silent for a while, then says quietly, "I didn't mean to upset you."

"I'm not upset, I simply don't see the benefit is discussing psychology as if it were a valid means for rational inquiry." She went back into the bedroom, dressed, and grabbed her purse. "I have to go."

"Oh. Well I'll see you next week." It's more of a question than a statement.

"I don't think I'll be able to see you next week."

He knows she's upset, and he knows it has something to do with the fact that he brought up Zack. He knows how to upset people, how to get unsubs on edge so they slip up and make a mistake. But he doesn't know what to say to a beautiful woman who's about to walk out of his apartment. Finally he says, "Good night."

"Good night, Spencer," she replies as she closes the door behind her.


End file.
